by Anna J.
Without waiting for a response, Monica dropped another twenty on the table and left as quickly as she came. Looking down at the business card, James saw that she wrote her home number on the back of it. Tucking the card inside of his wallet, James wrapped his lunch to go and made his way back to the office.
Slamming on the breaks, James almost ran a red light as thoughts of Monica clouded his memory. He was clearly intrigued by Monica’s beauty, but now he couldn’t help but think that bringing her into his marriage was a huge mistake. He thought back on the threesome with his wife and wondered if she and Monica ever got together after that. He also thought about all the times he and Monica had unprotected sex and wondered what exactly he would do if she did get pregnant. How would he explain it to Jasmine? That threesome happened well over six months ago. The amount of money he spent on her was already an issue Jasmine could not find out about, and he was set on ending what they had today.
Pulling up to Monica’s door, he parked behind her convertible and walked quickly through the closed door. Monica was elated that Jasmine came to see her until she saw James exiting the vehicle. Wondering what the purpose of his visit was, she took the steps two at a time, hurrying to answer his persistent banging on her cherry wood door.
“Why are you banging on my door like you’re the police?” Monica said as she swung the door open.
“We need to talk,” James replied coldly as he brushed past her, not waiting to be asked inside.
James missed the dirty look Monica gave him as she slowly closed the door and made her way to the sofa. She had just taken a pregnancy test, her third in three weeks, to confirm that she was still pregnant and the test worked. She had a gynecologist appointment in the morning that she was dying to get to. She was planning to share her good news with Sheila once she woke up, but James’s unexpected visit deterred her for a second.
“What do we need to talk about, James?” Monica inquired, already bored with his presence. She thought briefly about waking Sheila up and having that threesome just to make sure she was really pregnant, but she decided to wait. Just in case she wasn’t pregnant she would need him to come by again.
“Monica, I can’t do this anymore,” James began while pacing back and forth in front of the couch. He knew if he sat down he wouldn’t get anything said. Sitting too close to Monica was dangerous at a time like this. He needed to keep a level head to get this done.
“You can’t do what, James? How many times are we going to go through this?” Monica asked as she stood up and pressed her body against his. “Are you starting to feel guilty again?”
“Did you tell Jasmine I came over here to talk about her when she made me mad that night?”
“I haven’t seen Jasmine in a long time,” Monica began, trying to see where he was taking this. “Why? What did she tell you?” Monica asked, taking her seat again because she was starting to feel sharp pains in her side that took her breath away.
James didn’t want to put it out there if it wasn’t said, and chalked it up as Jasmine trying to call his bluff. He would deal with that once he got home, but for now he had to break things off with Monica.
“She didn’t tell me anything. I wanted to know if you opened your mouth to her.”
“Well, I didn’t.” Monica said between breaths. The pains in her abdomen were getting sharper, causing her breath to come in spurts.
“Good, keep it that way. I just came here to tell you that we have to chill. I can’t see you anymore. Things at home aren’t right, and being here is not going to . . . Monica are you okay?”
James was so into his story he didn’t see Monica doubled over in pain on the couch until he turned to look at her. His back was to her, and he was mainly focused on how to get things with Jasmine back on track. She was clutching her stomach with tears streaming down her face, a pool of crimson blood forming around her on the beige sofa. James ran over to her not knowing what to do.
“Monica, it’s okay, baby, I’m calling for an ambulance now,” James replied while trying to hold her up and dial 911 at the same time.
“James, tell them to hurry. I don’t want to lose my baby,” Monica said between her tears.
“Baby? What baby?” James said as he waited for his phone to connect to the police station.
“Your baby, now hurry up,” Monica replied, as the circle of blood grew larger beneath her.
James explained the situation to the cops, and he talked to Monica once they were on their way. As cruel as it may sound, he hoped deep down that the baby didn’t make it. That way he wouldn’t have to explain his adulterous ways to his wife.
By the time the ambulance showed up, Monica was laid back on the couch barely able to move. James did what he could to keep her comfortable, but he was getting more nervous by the second because of the amount of blood on the couch and on the floor in front of it. The ambulance walked in and checked Monica’s vitals as they questioned James on what happened.
James tried as best he could to explain what went down as they wheeled Monica out to the truck. He heard Monica, as low as her voice was, telling the EMT to hurry because she didn’t want to lose her baby. Monica had lost a lot of blood and was miscarrying as they spoke.
Not knowing what to do as the ambulance pulled away, James turned back to the house so that he could clean the mess up. When he walked in, he saw Sheila standing up the top of the steps with tears in her eyes.
“I didn’t know you were here,” James said, surprised to see Sheila. The last time they got together they were in a very compromising position, and it made him feel a little uncomfortable with her in the room.
“We were just talking and I dozed off,” Sheila replied, not wanting James to know that she heard bits and pieces of what they were talking about. She thought she heard Monica tell James she was pregnant, but by the looks of things she might not be for long.
They stared at each other for a while, James taking a seat on the arm of the chair to collect his thoughts.
“Look, about the last time I was here,” Sheila began suddenly feeling like she had to cover herself. She didn’t know what James thought of her, and she wanted to tell someone what she knew before it killed her.
“Don’t worry about it. Let’s just clean this up. I don’t want her to come home to this mess.”
Without words they both grabbed towels and cleaners and got the mess up as best they could. They couldn’t do anything about the blood on the couch, but they made sure the floor was spotless, and threw the soaked pillow away so that Monica wouldn’t have to deal with it when she got home.
Sheila went back and forth in her mind about whether she should tell James about the videotape as he drove her home. She had taken one from the wall safe that Monica had left unlocked, and it was now burning a hole in her pocket. He didn’t look her way once, his eyes appearing glazed over as the tragedy played repeatedly in his head. James was going through his own shit, and was praying hard that the baby didn’t make it. After dropping Sheila off, he went home to talk to his wife, deciding that would be the last time Monica saw him.
By the time Monica arrived at the hospital, they had to take the three-month-old fetus from her and give her a blood transfusion to help her survive. She was carrying in her tubes, and they caught it just in time. If she had waited any longer, her tubes would have burst, killing her in the process.
Pulling into his driveway a half hour later, James walked slowly up to his front door after noticing his bedroom light was still on. Debating whether he would share what just happened with his wife, he put his key in the door, not really knowing how to handle the situation. Figuring it would probably be best if he just came clean, he took the long trek to his bedroom to clear the air between him and his wife once and for all.
When he walked in, Jasmine was sleeping quietly under the covers. James saw that she had fallen asleep with the television on because the house had to be pitch black and quiet for Jazz to get any kind of rest. She said it was so she could hea
r the kids, but James knew better. Smiling for a second at how beautiful his wife was, he had to wonder again how everything went wrong. They had been soul mates since day one. She gave him what he asked for without any questions, and never really gave him a reason to step out. The issues they had were minimal and could have been worked out had he been a little more patient with her.
Turning off the television and light and turning on the radio, James got into the bed and wrapped himself around his wife as sounds of Luther’s “So Amazing” started to play from the radio. Jasmine snuggled up closer to him.
“Jazz, I’m so sorry I hurt you baby. I never meant to.” James was trying to control his tears as he talked to his wife. He knew she was no longer asleep because she was crying as well. He felt her tears splash against his arm. Baby, I know I messed up. I just need to you help me. I need you to be here for me. I can’t do this by myself. You and the kids complete me.”
“James, it’s okay. I’ll never leave you, baby. I want this to work just as much as you do, but I need the truth. I need to know what happened when you left here. I need to know everything from day one.”
As the quiet storm played on the radio, James told Jasmine everything about Monica from day one, leaving out the money, the baby, and a few other details that he didn’t think Jasmine could handle. He knew he was still telling lies, but it felt good to get some of the stuff off his chest. He was determined to be done with Monica and get his family back on track. Afterward they held each other until they both fell asleep, making promises to each other to work it out the best they could.
Finders Keepers, Losers Cry
Monica had been in the hospital for three weeks trying to recover from the loss of her child and her near-death experience. James and Sheila didn’t show their faces, and it was taking a toll on her mentally and emotionally. For the first time since Monica was a teenager, she truly felt alone in the world. In fact, ever since her mom had passed away—rather, since her mom’s life was taken—it seemed as if no one in the universe cared about her.
Her depression only made her condition worse, and the doctors didn’t see any sign of life in her outside of the healing of her body. All Monica did was cry day in and day out, and she wouldn’t eat, so the doctors had her tube-fed so her body could get some type of nourishment. Her weight was at an unsightly low, almost making her look skeletal as she pitied herself for not taking the time to make things right in her life.
She slept most of the day, fighting off nightmares of her uncle and her sister’s father molesting her as a teenager and the unforgettable incident from the tenth grade with Keith and his friends. Every man she cared even remotely about always ended up hurting her, breaking her heart.
Monica wallowed in self-pity day after day to the point where the doctor suggested she seek counseling so she could better deal with her anxiety and bouts of depression. Monica was falling apart at the seams, unlike the Monica that everyone knew.
On her last day at the hospital, after she signed up for therapy sessions and the doctor saw that she was eating and actually keeping her food down, Monica sat in her room thinking of ways to get her life back. She knew she had to get James and Sheila back because she felt like they abandoned her, and she also had to get Jasmine before it was too late. Monica was tired of sleeping alone, and she had to move fast if things were going to work.
While waiting for her discharge papers, Monica took her time putting on the new sweat suit and sneakers one of the guards purchased for her to go home in because the clothes she came in with were soiled. All he wanted was her number and dinner, and she obliged. Anything to get the overbearing, underpaid security guard out of her face.
Watching Jenny Jones on television while waiting for the nurse to come back, she almost fell off the bed when she saw Sheila walk through the door. Fixing her face to say something smart, Monica thought better of it, thinking she may need Sheila to help her later on down the line. Sheila came in with a small teddy bear and flowers, her facial expression showing how nervous she was in spite of her smile.
“Monica, I’m sorry I haven’t been to see you. I’ve been so busy with . . .”
“Sheila, it’s fine, no explanation is needed. I’m just waiting for my discharge papers so I can blow this joint,” Monica said as she turned her attention back to the television.
Sheila took note of how frail Monica looked. Placing the teddy bear and Monica’s house keys on the bed beside her, Sheila took one last look at her before she turned to leave. Nearing the door, she turned the knob, not knowing what to do and kicking herself for coming up there in the first place.
Just as she was closing the door, she heard Monica call her name. When she looked back into the room, Monica was holding the teddy bear in her hands with tears in her eyes. Sheila waited at the door for her to speak.
“Thanks for coming up here. I really appreciate it.”
“It was no trouble. Just get better soon,” Sheila replied and turned away quickly so Monica wouldn’t see her tears.
Once Monica was sure Sheila was gone, she held up the teddy bear and took a long look at it. Ripping the head from its shoulders, she dropped both pieces in the can next to her bed. She continued watching her show as if nothing happened. She didn’t need stuffed animals; she needed Jasmine, and that’s all she was concerned about.
After signing her discharge papers, she walked out of the hospital and got into the waiting cab that was to take her home. The driver tried to make small talk, but Monica just stared out the window taking in the city, everything looking new to her. To her it felt like she was in the hospital for three years instead of three weeks. She couldn’t wait to get home so she could lay down in her own bed and not the hard hospital one that she had been in.
Once the driver pulled up to her house, she paid him and exited the vehicle quickly so she could hurry up to her room. Upon entrance, she could smell the stale blood in the air from her recent loss. Avoiding the stained sofa, Monica all but ran up to her room, throwing herself on the bed in a fit of tears once she got there. She couldn’t understand why things weren’t going her way. She briefly thought about praying, but cast the thought aside after determining God wouldn’t hear her for all of the dirt she’d done.
Drifting off to sleep once her tears subsided, she thought about ways of knocking James off quickly so she could finally have Jasmine to herself. The baby wasn’t all that important to her, but if all else failed, Monica decided she would try getting pregnant again as a last resort. As bad as things were going, something had to give, and she hoped it would give soon.
Monica slept well until the next afternoon, the ringing phone waking her from her slumber. Upset about the interference of her much-needed sleep but glad to be awakened from the nightmare she was having, Monica answered the phone with a groggy voice lacking any type of enthusiasm. She thought it was still morning and wondered who would be calling so early.
“This better be good,” Monica barked into the phone as she struggled to sit up in her bed. She was still having slight pains in her abdomen, and it wasn’t easy for her to maneuver around.
“You have a paid call from an inmate held in Muncy Correctional Facility. If you attempt to use three-way calling or any other features, this call will be disconnected. To accept this call, press three now,” the computer voice spoke into the receiver.
Monica glanced at the clock, realizing it was the afternoon, and wondered who got locked up and was calling for her assistance. She had just bailed her sister out only two months ago and hoped she wasn’t sent up again. Her sister was a petty thief, and Monica was starting to think she preferred jail to having freedom. Pressing three, she spoke into the receiver ready to hear some member of her dysfunctional family beg for help.
“Who needs my help now?” Monica spoke into the phone once the call was connected. She didn’t plan on helping whoever was calling, and was going to make this short and sweet.
“You seem to have forgotten about me,” the voice ca
me through on the other end, sounding angry and ready to explode.
“I forgot about who?” Monica replied, thinking her mind was playing tricks on her. She hadn’t spoken to Tanya since the day she was sent up for her husband’s murder almost two and a half years ago. Wondering why she decided to call now, Monica didn’t hide her disbelief as they continued their conversation.
“After all we’ve been through you don’t know who this is?” Tanya came through on the other end like she wanted to snatch Monica by her neck.
“I know who it is,” Monica came back with an attitude. She was over Tanya and didn’t feel like the bullshit. What was Tanya going to do for her from prison? Besides, she had her eyes on a bigger prize and didn’t plan on being distracted by anyone.
“Why am I still in here? You told me a couple of weeks, and that’s it,” Tanya said, sounding like she was starting to cry. “I been in here for damn near three years waiting for you to get me out of this hellhole. What the fuck is the problem?”
“What do you mean what’s the problem? I told you there would be some time served,” Monica came back with just as much attitude.
As far as she was concerned, she didn’t owe Tanya shit. If anything, she did her a favor by killing her abusive husband. Who wants to live in fear every day for the rest of their life not knowing how their man was going to act when he got home? You can’t be cute with a black eye and broken ribs. Ain’t nothing sexy about it. Monica came to the conclusion that if she didn’t kill him he would have killed her, and it’s as simple as that. No, she didn’t think about the situation she put Tanya’s son in, but Monica was never good at looking at the big picture.
“So what am I supposed to do? I didn’t tell on you because I thought you had my back. I thought you loved me,” Tanya screamed into the phone, her emotions getting the best of her, causing the other inmates to look in her direction. Even though she told herself she wasn’t going to cry, she couldn’t help it. She wanted out of the stone cage she was forced to be in, and she was ready to do whatever necessary to make it happen.
